


On the Ropes

by trash4ficsaboutlurv



Category: Luke Cage (TV)
Genre: F/F, Morning Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 11:53:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15024026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash4ficsaboutlurv/pseuds/trash4ficsaboutlurv
Summary: Claire has a sex dream and wakes up horny





	On the Ropes

“Are you awake,” Claire asked. 

Misty groaned. “Yeah, but at what cost?” 

It was their little joke and she heard the breath of Claire’s almost laugh. 

“I had a dream about you,” Claire said. She swept her hand from Misty’s navel to her right nipple and pinched. 

“A sex dream?” Misty asked unnecessarily. She rubbed her eyes and looked up at Claire, who nodded. “What were we doing?” 

“It was actually a little bit of an orgy,” Claire admitted. She continued to pet and caress Misty from her navel to her collarbone. “It was you and me, Thor, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, and Angelina Jolie in her prime. Mr. and Mrs. Smith Angelina.”

Misty smiled. “Why’d you ever wake up?” 

“I think I realized I could be having the real thing with you.” Claire’s fingers skirted lower.

“I’m no Thor,” Misty said. Her hips angled toward Claire’s touch.

“I sort of think fucking Thor would be a little more danger than I’m looking for in the bedroom,” Claire joked. 

“Static shock?”

“Or like one huge bolt when he comes.”

Misty laughed and caught Claire’s wrist. “Good morning,” she said. She kissed from the center of Claire’s palm to the crook of her elbow. Claire had such soft, satiny skin and she smelled like vanilla. 

“I want to go down on you,” Claire said. “In my dream, I kept giving Steve Rogers tips.”

Misty snorted. “Your subconscious doesn’t think he’s good in bed?” she asked. 

“My subconscious doesn’t think he’s had much practice with all the world-ending shit the last few years.”

“What’d you tell him?” Misty asked. 

“That you like to be touched here,” Claire said, tracing around Misty’s clitoris through her dampening panties. “And here.” Her fingers dipped slightly lower. “Especially here.”

Misty sighed. “You must have been … a very good teacher.”

Claire didn’t say anything. She pushed aside the scrap of cotton and smiled. 

***

Claire's tongue was sure in its ministrations, dancing across the places that craved attention most -- almost as though she could read Misty's flesh. As though she was so in tune with Misty that she could feel what was good and then what was overwhelmingly good. Unlike the many inept, but well-meaning men who had ventured down there, Claire also wasn't afraid to ask Misty what she wanted -- no what she needed. 

"Does this feel good?" she asked as she curved her fingers just so and hit that spot inside that made Misty's eyes roll back in her head. 

Or, "Do you want it faster?" as her fingers pushed in and out of Misty's weeping wet entrance tortuously slow. 

Or very smugly, "You like that, don't you?" crooned after she had sucked Misty's clitoris in an undulating rhythm of hard, hard, soft, soft, soft, soft,  _ hard!  _ and Misty's legs  _ fell  _ open and she sort of sat up like a bolt of lightning had gone through her. 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, barely articulate and not crucially important compared to the pleasurable assault on her body, drifted the thought that Claire had the stamina of a world-champ pussy eater. Typically, Misty took so long to come, her partners would have to switch between a couple methods to give their jaw or wrist or dick a break. But Claire seemed to genuinely enjoy her work and to have bottomless reserves of energy for the task. 

Maybe it was Claire's enthusiasm coupled with her talent that was getting Misty so literally hot and bothered. Sweat covered her skin in a sheen and heat pressed down on her like a weight. She felt like a thrashing column of flames. She wanted to take off something, anything, but she was completely naked and had pushed the loose sheet off the bed already. Little whimpering noises were escaping her throat and she clamped her hand over her own mouth. She had always thought noisy lovers were so affected. No one moaned like that unless they were faking or in a porno. But Misty was having to reassess that point of view because it felt like if she didn't let the pleasure fall from her lips in groans and sighs and mindless promises to love Claire forever, she would absolutely explode. 

"Claire," she groaned. "Claire." Her palms were slick, her mouth dry from panting. She was keenly aware of her earlobes, a telltale sign that she was close. "Oh my...godddddddd," she cried. Her fists twisted in the fitted sheet and she turned her face into the pillow as her toes pointed and her back arched and her skin was set ablaze and the shivers went through her body faster and faster until finally, finally,  _ finally  _ it reached its unbearable crescendo and crested like a wave. 

Misty was weightless, borne up on eddies of pleasure. She was outside of her body, she was close to god, she was ineffable. And then slowly, slowly she sank back into the mattress, back into her damp skin, back into this moment with Claire. Claire, who was still lapping at Misty. Not against that most sensitive bundle of nerves, but just below it and then at her entrance. Claire's deft fingers pushed in and out of her in a rhythm that Misty's hips followed instinctively. Claire's tongue and fingers were so clever, warm and wet against Misty until -- out of nowhere -- Misty came again. This time she thought she might have blacked out. She at least knew that several seconds or maybe even a minute passed where she couldn't tell up from down or her body from Claire's. Everything was far away and there was only a numbing peace. 

Claire nipped the flesh of Misty's inner thigh. "I want to make you do that again," she said conversationally.

Misty tried to catch her breath. "I - I can't," she panted. 

Claire's lips curved against Misty's skin. "Let me be the judge of that."

Misty shuddered and let her heavy limbs sprawl. She wanted to kiss Claire, to envelop her, to fuck her, but more even than that, she wanted to never move again. This was contentment. This was bliss. 

She forced herself up on to her elbows and looked down at Claire, still bracketed in the vee of her splayed legs. Claire's hair was tousled in a way that Misty had only thought possible in movies where the hair and makeup team came in between every frame to keep it perfectly sex-swept. Her lips glistened and her eyes were dark and glossy and full of intent. A wash of the embarrassment Misty always felt after the chaos of an orgasm asserted itself. She closed her eyes. Shook her head and opened them again. "I should return the favor," she said, just barely holding on to her manners. 

Claire smirked. "You will." She pulled herself up and came to lie down beside Misty. She reached out to the nightstand and handed Misty the glass there. When Misty had gulped down the tepid water, Claire took the cup away. 

"You should get some rest first," she said. She traced little swirls on Misty's sweat-sticky stomach. "You're fighting sleep as hard as you fought that orgasm."

Misty laughed in surprise. "I didn't fight it!"

Claire raised an eyebrow. "I had you on the ropes at least four different times before you let me win." She licked her full lips. "Don't get me wrong, I liked the challenge, but  _ you  _ have to learn to give up control sometimes."

Misty rolled her eyes. "That's not what --" She yawned. "That isn't -- okay, maybe, I'm a naturally tense person."

Claire pushed Misty's coily hair to the side and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "Understatement."

"I'm relaxed now," Misty pointed out. 

"True, and I kinda want to see if I can make you come again." 

Misty shook her head. "I really couldn't."

"Not with that attitude," Claire quipped. She rolled out of the bed gracefully and smoothed her camisole so that her breasts didn't spill out of the top. "I want waffles. Do you want waffles?"

"Whuh..."

Claire grabbed her phone. "If I order now, that place on 48th will have them here in half an hour.” Claire peered over her phone at Misty with bright humor in her eyes. “Is that enough time for you to recover?"

Misty wrinkled her nose. "Are you always this smug after sex?"

"Only with you," Claire said. 

Misty didn't answer. She just stared at her girlfriend. Her girlfriend! Who looked rumpled and comfortable and unbelievably sexy. Her lean thighs and flat stomach were so different from the soft dimpled body Misty had to haul around. But Claire’s beauty didn’t make Misty feel bad about herself. It was almost as if Claire gave it as a gift like a bouquet of flowers or an expensive tennis bracelet. Here, her beauty said, have me.

"Luke will be home soon," Claire said. "If he hasn't managed to kill himself being Harlem's hero. I should get him waffles too, right?"

Misty nodded drowsily. She didn't want waffles. She wanted Claire to come cuddle her until she fell asleep. Or barring that, to make it  _ not  _ the day she had promised to volunteer for a Big Brother club meeting at 10 in the morning. She stretched and rolled over so she could lay in the patch of sunshine on the bed. 

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a million years since I've written anything and it just had to be smut that my brain came up with.


End file.
